Esto proponía el buen Mallarmé en los cuentos de Poe.
Leyendo ociosamente como usualmente leo, encontré esto que me parece, en resumen, una de las grandes netas de la literatura (y perdón si alguien se arde de que yo hable de literatura) y del arte en general:
Every feeling or sensation we have, every moment of consciousness, is different from every other; and it is, in consequence, impossible to render our sensations as we actually experience them through the conventional and universal language of ordinary literature. Each poet has his unique personality; each of his moments has its special tone, its special combination of elements. And it is the poet's task to find, to invent, the special language which will alone be capable of expressing his personality and feelings. Such a language must make use of symbols: what is so special, so fleeting and so vague cannot be conveyed by direct statement or description, but only by a succesion, of images, which will serve to suggest it to the reader.
Esto lo escribió Edmund Wilson en su libro: "Axel's castle: A study in the imaginative literature of 1870-1930".
Y nada, a seguir su consejo, donner un sens plus pur aux mots de la tribu.